


just peachy (with tea and flowers)

by Star_on_a_Staff



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Flirting, Barista!Annette, Boba Tea, Cats, Comfort, Dogs, F/M, Florist!Felix, Flower Language, Fluff, Humor, Inspired by Fanart, It's the classic Flowers/Milk Tea AU, Light Angst, Romance, Shenanigans, brief mentions of trauma, check out LunaChai she is a gift from God, date, wingman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-02-22 09:42:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22980781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_on_a_Staff/pseuds/Star_on_a_Staff
Summary: It’s the afternoon of February 14, and Felix Hugo Fraldarius is currently wondering if it’s possible to strangle someone with a noose made from frilly lace ribbon.Or; Felix is a florist and he suffers from snooty customers and a very not-important crush in the form of a cheerful redheaded barista on Valentine's Day. Felix/Annette, modern AU. Florist!Felix and Barista!Annette. For LunaChai in light of her recent adorable fanart <3ON TEMPORARY HIATUS
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 167
Kudos: 272





	1. just don't use yellow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LunaChai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaChai/gifts).



> I saw the picture and I couldn't resist. Literally, I had so much homework to do but then I was like "Screw getting a degree" and I banged this out. And YES I KNOW that this is literally the Pizza AU formatting but HEY I'M the author. 
> 
> Chapter 2 will be out once I actually finish said homework. ;'( 
> 
> In the meantime I hope you enjoy!

It’s the afternoon of February 14, and Felix Hugo Fraldarius is currently wondering if it’s possible to strangle someone with a noose made from frilly lace ribbon. 

“I was thinking yellow carnations,” The current customer is saying dreamily, leaning on the counter with the bored know-it-all air of the grossly wealthy. “Women love yellow, you know. Bright and perky. It matches my hair too, so she’ll think of me!”

Felix wants very badly to clock him upside the head with the tip jar.

“Yellow carnations,” he repeats incredulously. 

“You heard me, sport!” The man takes out his wallet. It’s more like a card holder really, what with all the sleek credit cards stuffed inside that he ostentatiously and clumsily flashes at him like it’s supposed to afford him extra benefits. “Now I’ll take your biggest arrangement as soon as possible, alright? And make it quick; we have a dinner reservation at Le Doré and I don’t want to disappoint my lady love.”

“Yellow carnations for a Valentine’s bouquet,” Felix says like it’s physically gutting him. He slams his hand on the counter.“Have you lost your _mind_?”

The customer glances at him, blinking in rich confusion. “I beg your pardon?”

“Yellow carnations symbolize disdain, rejection, or contempt.” Felix snaps every consonant until he’s practically spitting out the last word. “Is this what you want to give your date on _Valentine’s Day_? Do you want to die?”

“Now see here—” The man sputters, but Felix is already snatching a spray of jasmine from an nearby moribana arrangement and unfurling it from its tiny belt of twine. 

“The yellow jasmine means grace and elegance.” He thrusts it into the wide-eyed man’s hands and turns to another shelf, easing out a stem of dahlias. 

“The yellow dahlia signifies regard.” Felix moves over to another display, dahlia in hand, and glances briefly over his shoulder to look his customer up and down. “I would give you yellow violets but since those mean rural romance and you’re wearing Galliano I’ll refrain from that.” 

Before the astonished man could gather his wits, Felix collects a tuft of honeysuckles, walks over to his open-mouthed customer, and drops all the flowers into his arms. “And _these_ mean generous and devoted affection. I’ll tie these up for you with the appropriate accents before you bungle your so-called “lady love’s” heart with another misinformed decision.”

He moves behind the register and begins to unsheathe a veritable arsenal of ribbon, decorative baubles, and dried flowers. That’s it, just occupy your hands, keep your fingers busy—

“What about yellow roses?” the man asks feebly though a mouthful of nodding yellow blooms. 

Felix feels his eye visibly twitch and whips around with a handful of small white snowdrops and very dainty lace dangling from his white-knuckled hand. The customer shrinks. 

“Those mean a decrease in love.” Felix growls as threateningly as a man holding pretty white flowers can. “Sweetbriars, tulips, roses; all of their yellow variations signify jealousy, deceit or plain hopelessness. Just…”

He sighs and rubs his temples, moving to the front of the register. “Just pay upfront and I can get this done for you in about fifteen minutes.”

The man mutely hands over a shiny black card stamped with an impressively gaudy set of surnames. Felix swipes it once and hands it back. “There. Thank you for your patronage.”

As the man pockets the card, he mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like a slur, but he’s already out of the door before Felix could decide if he’s worth the tip jar or not. 

Sighing, Felix gathers the explosion of yellow on the counter and resignedly sets to work on what is already looking to be a bouquet as bourgeois as its buyer. At least he can try to tame the bright yellow with some white and maybe some light purples if he still has the leftovers from the Hresvelg banquet. Felix wonders if the man’s girlfriend is in her right mind. 

After a few minutes, the door’s hanging entrance bell (in the shape of a very fat and happy cat) tinkles pleasantly again, and without looking up from his ribbon work, he says curtly, “I’m not bloody finished give me ten more minutes.”

“Nice to see you too.” Sylvain says brightly, striding in with his roguishly dashing grin. “You’re as charming as ever.”

Felix sighs, setting down the bouquet. “What do you want Syl—” 

He does a double take. “What happened to your face?”

“Ah, this?” Sylvain gingerly touched the angry red handprint on his jaw. “A lovely break-up gift from a very sweet tempered ex-girlfriend I forgot to take out today. She wasn’t too happy to be jilted on Valentine’s Day, believe me.”

“Typical.” Felix mutters, taking up his spool of white ribbon and unwinding the silky gilded fabric. “Ingrid’s going to kill you.”

“Oh, she tried.” Sylvain turns his other cheek and an identical although smaller handprint comes into view like a scarlet model sashaying down the catwalk. “I’m having a very eventful day.”

“Good for you.”

“Hey, so what are you doing later tonight?” Sylvain leans on the counter and idly picks up a little white daisy. “Got any plans besides dealing with idiot romantics lining up to buy your award-winning arrangements?”

“I have at least eight bouquets I’m working on right now.” Felix says cuttingly, snatching the daisy back and tucking it into the center of the yellow monstrosity of an arrangement. “I won’t be done until ten.”

“You’re going to shrivel away if you don’t get some sunlight.” Sylvain peers at him, looking for dark circles. “You should know, you’re the florist.”

“One: some flowers prefer darkness, two: I’m not a flower and three: I’m not going to shrivel away.” Felix snaps, nearly cutting his fingers with his scissors in his ire. “Besides I took an early morning jog around the block today.”

Sylvain makes a face. “How early?”

“6.”

“Ew.”

“Mind your business.”

“Suit yourself.” Sylvain eases off the counter. “Oh, by the way, Ingrid and I are going to that one milk tea place by the fountain later today. The one with the really cute redhead barista? I think you should come. It’ll take the scowl off your face.”

Felix drops the scissors. 

“Consider it.” Sylvain winks and pulls open the door. The glass doorbell jingles merrily as the outside noise of the city rushes in and tickles the many colorful blooms of the shelved arrangements in the shop. 

Before the door swings shut, Felix calls out, “Sylvain.” 

The doorbell pauses mid-jingle. “Yeeeeees?”

“I’ll be off by eight.”

“Don’t work yourself too hard.” Sylvain’s grin can literally cut glass. “I’ll swing by at 8 then.”

“Hmph.”

The door finally swings shut, leaving a very red Felix alone with his thoughts and a monstrously yellow bouquet in his unfeeling hands. 


	2. friends are the worst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Annette has to deal with a Very Good Looking customer who hates sweets and somehow still comes to a boba tea shop. Dedue and Sylvain enjoy her suffering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for updating this so late my grades and sanity are slipping so I had little time to work on this, sorry >.< I won't say I'll have a consistent update schedule going forward but I'll try to keep updating either bi-weekly or weekly at the very least! Bear with me!
> 
> Also this is my 23rd felannie fanfiction. I have a problem
> 
> Anyways enjoy!

It’s the evening of February 14, and Annette Fantine Dominic is currently questioning the sanity of her current customer. 

“Your largest cup of oolong tea,” the physical manifestation of Dark Tall and Grumpy says with little ceremony, glaring at his two friends who are frolicking in the back of the cafe. “Unsweetened.”

Annette feels the entire cafe, pastel and soft and cheery, shrivel around her at the sound of this very unfun order.

“Unswee-” she swallows the squawk of indignation and plasters a radiant smile on her face to mask the horror. “It’ll be ready for you shortly!”

Dark Tall and Grumpy casts a curious look at her as she aggressively punches his order into the trembling register. “I see that you’re not pushing your boba agenda on me today.”

“What’s the use,” Annette mutters darkly before hastily sweetening her voice again. “I mean, you’ve ordered the _exact same thing_ for the past few months so I can’t exactly change your mind at this point!”

“Try me,” Dark Tall and no longer so Grumpy offers. Somewhere in the corner, one of his friends lets out a strangely muffled noise that sounds like incredulous laughter. 

“Well, we’ve got more than fifteen options of toppings, like I’ve told you before.” Annette smiles charmingly with barely hidden venom. “We’ve got boba of three different sizes, jellies, popping candy, like 6 different kinds of fruit bits, pudding, ice cream, aloe vera, taro, and this really cute limited edition candy shaped like a heart that turns pink when it comes in contact with heat-”

Dark Tall and Overwhelmed quickly puts up a hand, looking like she’s listing torture methods instead of sweeteners. “Just the tea. Please.”

“Fine, be stubborn.” Annette huffs, taking a cup and scrawling a sad little line through the “tea” box. “It’s Valentine’s Day! Aren’t you going to add something just for the heck of it?”

“For the heck of what?” Dark and Tall and Confused asks. He begins thumbing out money for the drink, and Annette has a very weird moment where she’s suddenly entranced by the shape of his wrist, defined against his ink-black watch. It’s so smooth, the skin, and Annette wonders distractedly if it’s soft to the touch. 

She shakes herself out of the reverie, forcing herself to glare up and into Dark Tall and Kind of Good Looking’s eyes. Oh nooo, that was a bad idea. She keeps forgetting that even though his taste in drinks is atrocious, his eyes are _pretty,_ like dark sugary caramel. And Annette loves caramel. 

She fishes for something to say as Dark Tall and Definitely Good Looking clears his throat. “The tea will be fine, thanks. I prefer it like that.”

“Okay, it’ll be ready for you shortly!” Annette squeaks, running to hide her embarrassment by the oolong tea machine. Dark Tall and Unfortunately Handsome walks back to where his friends are clutching each other, almost doubled over snickering. He hisses something to them that’s lost under the whining sputter of the nearly-broken oolong tea machine. 

Annette alternates between smacking it around and cooing to it before the machine finally spits out enough of that nasty dark green liquid that smells very pungent and _unsweet_ to fill up their largest sized cup.

Dedue casts her a look as he spoons pudding into another cup. “So. He’s back.”

“Yes, he is.” Annette glares at him. “And you keep quiet because I don’t care.”

“I’m not saying anything,” Dedue says solemnly but with a definite tilt to his lips as he hands her the pudding cup. As she begins to fill it with fragrantly luscious green tea, he speaks up again. “It’s Valentine’s Day.”

“DEDUE.”

“He’s just with his friends,” Dedue continues serenely. “At 8 in the evening.” 

Green tea nearly spills out the cup as Annette whirls around to shoot Dedue her most fearsome glare. His height negates the full effect of these sorts of glares, but he puts his hands up in surrender anyway and moves away from her with an actual chuckle. 

Annette casts a furtive glance over at the trio in the corner of the cafe. Dark Tall and Okay He’s Hot Let’s Just Face It has sat down between his two friends, looking distinctly out of his element as they chatter over him. He’s shoved his hands into his pockets and not exactly slouching but leaning loose and languidly against the back of the chair in the way that only works for good-looking men— 

“Annette, the tea’s spilling.”

“BAH!” Annette spins around, shrieks at the sight of green tea burbling over the sides of the cup, and swoops in to whack the off switch with desperation. Thankfully there’s only a teeny tiny puddle on the floor, so she gingerly sidesteps the mess and jams it into the capping machine.

She turns around to breathe a sigh of relief only to see Dedue holding two capped drinks and looking at her with a single eyebrow cocked pointedly high into his hairline. 

“Oh, what are you looking at?” Annette cries, throwing her hands into the air. He just walks past her silently and sets the drinks on the counter. “Order #598 for Sylvain.” He drones, the very picture of professionalism.

“That’s us!” The very tall and roguishly handsome man with the tousled red hair springs out of his seat and lopes his way over to the counter. He sends Annette a little wink as he picks up the two drinks, and she just gives him a weak little smile in return.

“This looks good. If a pretty girl like yourself made this, it’s sure to be delicious,” he drawls, bracing one splendidly sculpted elbow on the counter as he draws a straw out of its packaging with exaggerated slowness. He grins at her for extra effect. 

Annette just rolls her eyes. Sylvain’s said the exact same thing every time he’s picked up his order for the past few months so she’s pretty much used to his act by now. “You should put some ice on that.” She says instead, patting her cheeks and gesturing towards his face. 

“Oh, I know.” His flirty grin drops almost at once and he sends a Look of Despair at the blond woman in the corner of the cafe, who just gives him a Death Glare in response. “Women seem to be both my bane and my blessing in this life.”

“Bad Valentine date?” Annette asks, curious. 

“Oh, the worst.” Sylvain reaches up to rub the back of his neck sheepishly, and Annette suddenly gets an eyeful of his defined shoulders under his jacket. She thinks that it’s probably a practiced move because he eases out of the pose as naturally as anything and picks up both drinks. “Well, at least I had a date. Did you do anything with a special someone today?”

“Oh, I’m not seeing anyone right now,” Annette replies sweetly, wondering if she’s allowed to chuck a straw at his eye. Pointy end first. 

“OH, IS THAT SO.” His grin stretches his face and Sylvain casts a weirdly gleeful look at the corner where Dark Tall and Suddenly Furious is making rapid cutting motions across his throat. 

Sylvain turns back to her with a softer but sharper smile. “You know, my friend over there is single, you should see if he’s inter—”

“Order #599 for Felix.” Dedue suddenly sets down the drink with little ceremony, almost knocking Sylvain’s elbows off the counter. 

Annette almost screams with frustration as Dark Tall and Definitely Angry stalks over to the counter, his boots nearly punching the tiled floor with each step. His ire wasn’t directed at her though, because he grabs Sylvain’s lapel with one hand and his drink with the other and immediately stalks off. 

“We’re leaving,” he growls at Sylvain, who just blinks at him sweetly and innocently. But Felix—oh, right he actually has a name—pauses to glance at her over his shoulder, the anger on his face seeping away to be replaced by a very awkward unnamed emotion that Annette can’t pinpoint but makes her heart do a little _skip-bump._

“I’ll try some boba next time,” he says almost grudgingly, and Annette’s jaw falls open. With that, Felix practically barrels through the door as the blonde woman, nearly doubled over with laughter during this entire exchange, gives her a quick little apologetic smile and follows her friends out of the door. 

As soon as it closes on the nearly empty cafe, Annette pounds her forehead on the counter and _groans_. 

“Why did you do that,” she mumbles despairingly through a mouthful of counter. “ _Why did you do that_.”

“I thought you said that you didn’t care,” Dedue says, wiping off the counter with the ease and grace of a monarch. “Now let’s start locking up.”

He puts a rag in her limp hands and walks away, leaving Annette with the scent of burnt sugar milk in her nose and the stupid inconvenience of having a stupid crush on the evening of February 14.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felix POV next! This man is a MESS
> 
> Also sorry if Dedue is a little OOC here but I really want to try writing him more because he deserves love <3
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	3. beasts (of all shapes and sizes)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix deals with a boar, a tease, and a dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for updating so late but the corona virus just shut down my school for a few weeks and I had to scramble to get my things in order. But I hope you like this extremely sit-commy and slightly longer chapter in the meantime!!

It’s barely 8 hours into a listless February 15, and Felix feels like utter _death_. 

The cheery sunlight pouring through the glass windows of the shop’s display is all but searing into his throbbing head. He digs the heels of his hands into his eyes and groans. 

The late night tea was not exactly a mistake; he regrets mistakes, and that was something that he didn’t regret in the least. It was worth the five entire dollars of the bitter oolong tea to watch the pretty (oh Seiros, he’s calling her _pretty_ now) barista’s face fall open into an expression of mingled shock and amazement, tinged with something that a small nugget of himself hoped was pleasure. 

It was, however, a mistake to let Sylvain and Ingrid be privy to the entire exchange. It was a mistake to yank Sylvain along by his collar out into the open air of the still bustling street, because the much taller redhead had ducked easily under his arm and soon looped his arm amiably around his neck. 

“So,” Sylvain grinned, looking just like Felix’s cat Duchess when she had pinned a mouse under her claws, “You’ll try out her ‘boba’ next time?” 

That was when Felix had lunged at Sylvain and where Ingrid wrestled them both into submission just in time for her phone to go off with a loud blare of tinny piano keys. All three of them paused to stare at Ingrid’s swinging jacket pocket, frozen in each other’s interlocked arms in front of a horrified young mother who scrambled to cover her child’s eyes as they hurriedly shuffled away. 

“It’s Dima,” Ingrid had said in surprise, extricating herself from their grip to fumble at the screen. Felix and Sylvain disentangled themselves swiftly, peering over her shoulder curiously. 

“The boar got turned down, didn’t he?” Felix drawled. “Or did he chicken out?”

“Number one, your insults are weakening, number two, Byleth wouldn’t be so cruel.” Sylvain strained to look closer at the screen, palming at his own coat pockets with his free hand. “Shit, where are my glasses? Ingrid—”

“Shut up, both of you!” Ingrid hissed, cupping a hand over her phone’s mouthpiece, shooting them a glare that, had it been a blade, would’ve sliced them upon from head to toe and left them to bleed out on the sidewalk. 

They shut up.

“Dima, slow down, what happened?” Ingrid paced away from them, her face twisted with concern. There was a babble of desperate wailing from the other line that was audible to even Sylvain and Felix, who both hovered close to Ingrid with anxiety churning in their gut. 

Felix remembered the knot of worry that had tied itself up in his stomach when they had waited for Ingrid to respond to Dimitri. He would’ve swallowed a whole handful of calla lilies than admit to this amount of concern for that boar of a childhood friend, but Dimitri was so sickeningly head over heels in love with his quiet coworker that it would be even more sickening to have that relationship blow up in his face. Dima was his best customer, for Seiros’ sake, what with all the single stems that he buys for her on a weekly basis, and to lose that source of profit would be most...distressing, to say the least.

At least that was what he told himself as Ingrid took her hand away from the mouthpiece and turned to them with a crunch between her eyebrows and a downward pull to her lips. “Let’s go. He’s with Ashe, but from what I can tell he didn’t go through with it.”

“Spineless,” Felix muttered, only to receive a sharp elbow to the gut and a hard push in the direction of Sylvain’s sleek car. 

“That’s literally the pot calling the kettle black,” Sylvain observed as they piled inside. “Honestly, I think I’m the only one with any hope whatsoever of actually getting laid before the night is over—”

“Sylvain,” Ingrid sighed as she buckled herself inside with the grimness of a warrior setting out on a do-or-die mission, “for once in your life just shut up and drive.”

O.O

The rest of the night was like the bits of glass in a wildly colorful kaleidoscope in Felix’s shotty memory. As he prepares his flowers for the aftermath of Valentine’s Day (Fallout Day, as Glenn used to cheerfully refer to the day directly after the most romantic holiday of the year where lovers either hook up or break up), Felix rubs his forehead and thinks ruefully on how he potentially just lost the best customer he could’ve asked for. 

Dimitri had chased his sorrows and regret to the very bottom of his glass by the time the trio had pulled up to the nondescript bar tucked deep into the navel of the city. Ashe had given them an apologetic smile as he patted Dimitri’s shuddering shoulders, quickly explaining how Dimitri had everything prepared; the ring, the flowers, the absurdly expensive wine, only to have his tongue dry up in his mouth the moment Byleth sat down at the candlelit table in a form-fitting dress that flowed like night-lit water down her body. 

“I didn’t know what to say...” Dimitri sobbed as Sylvain and Felix heaved him up from the bar stool, with one massive arm over each of their shoulders. “She was so _beautiful_ , and I spent the entire time sitting there thinking on how I don’t deserve her in the least—”

“You’ve been planning this for weeks,” Felix chided as they hauled him to Sylvain’s car while Ashe and Ingrid trailed along behind. “You’ve been together for this long, why are you doubting yourself _now_?”

Dimitri hung his head. Sylvain shot Felix a look over the sad mop of blond hair and leaned his head down to smile winningly at Dimitri. “Pluck up, Dima. You haven’t butchered everything, and there’s always another time. Valentine’s Day is a corny evening to propose on anyway, so maybe this worked out for the best.”

Dimitri hiccuped, looking up with glistening eyes and a quivering lip. “A-Are you sure?”

Felix rolled his eyes. “There’s always a next time. You guys see each other everyday, so it won’t be like you’re out of options.”

Ingrid and Sylvain both turned to look at Felix simultaneously. There was a glint in their eyes that Felix immediately recognized as trouble.

“Isn’t that right,” Sylvain smirked. His car beeped mischievously as its locks popped open, as if to add a wink to the top of that worrisome smile on its driver’s face. 

“This has nothing to do with Annette,” Felix had foolishly, carelessly, blurted out. 

“We didn’t say anything about her,” Sylvain said in delight. 

Felix sputtered.“I—that is—Goddess, Sylvain—”

“A little strange hearing this string of words coming from somewhere else other than my bedroom.” Sylvain grinned roguishly as Felix ground to a horrified stop, “but I’m far more interested in the fact that you’re on a first name basis with darling _Annette_.” He tasted the two-syllable word and Felix longed to take a handful of beautiful purple foxgloves and shove them down Sylvain’s throat. 

“Felix has a girlfriend?” Dimitri slurred, his deep voice curling on every consonant. Alcohol tended to make him sound like an earnest golden retriever with the motor control skills to match. He grabbed the back of Felix’s neck and nuzzled him close. Felix’s startled shout of protest was muffled in Dimitri’s chest as the blonde sobbed,“Treasure her, Felix! You should _love_ her, _treasure_ her, make her the happiest woman in the entire world—”

“Alright bud, let’s get you home before you physically and verbally smother Fe.” Sylvain hauled him along to the car, Ingrid helping to boost him awkwardly along from the back as Felix flailed from the cage of arms that he’d found himself in for the second time that night.

With some heaving and pushing and some forceful shoves, they managed to squeeze Dimitri into the back of Sylvain's car. They had managed to stuff him into the backseat before they had clambered inside and Sylvain exclaimed that he couldn’t see anything in the rear view mirror past Dimitri’s tear-stained face, so they had to clamber back out of the car again to squeeze him into the front passenger seat, where he slumped over and hugged the car door sniffling quietly to himself. 

“We’re not done with Annette, by the way,” Sylvsin had told Felix in a very soft and low tone before he climbed into the back seat. Felix made a very rude gesture with his left hand and turned to brood over the last of his pretty-okay oolong tea as he watched the car pull away from the curb. 

Ingrid rolled her eyes as she crossed her legs primly. “All of you are disasters when it comes to women.”

“So are you,” Sylvain said defensively. Ingrid gave him a venomous look as he threw the car into the mercy of the highway. 

“Look at us,” Dimitri mumbled, his forehead pressed up against the glass of his window. “We’re never going to get married.”

“Or laid,” Sylvain groaned. Felix reached up to smack him. “Okay, fine, laid _again_. But I’m just thinking of the innocents in this vehicle who might not have had the opportunity to experience the pleasures of the flesh—”

“Marigolds,” Felix growled. “Larkspurs. Oleanders. Daffodils. Hydrangeas. Mountain laurels. I could keep going.”

“Not all of us can speak flower, buddy.”

“How would you like to experience pleasures of the flesh such as seizures, vomiting, diarrhea, fever, or death?” Felix took a long, exasperated drag of his drink and tried to remember the sunniness of Annette’s smile. “It could be long and painful or I could end your misery within minutes.”

Sylvain whistled. “I’ve known you all my life and yet you still fascinate me.”

“I don’t try to,” Felix grunted. 

“And that’s exactly the personality I’m sure Annette would _adore_.” Infuriating, frustrating Sylvain leaned back in his seat and cast a sly glance over at Felix. “Better work on that, Felix.”

O.O

Felix chases Sylvain’s grim advice out of his head with an impatient shake of his head and a grunt. His fingers are automatically weaving a pouf of chrysanthemums into what Glenn used to call “a friendzone bouquet”, making it as tasteful as possible to soothe the slight of rejected lovers or those who did the rejecting who never fail to come in on the 15th of February. 

He’s in the middle of trying to determine if a sprig of wild daisy is more appropriate than periwinkles before the door suddenly crashes open with a earth-shattering cacophony. The glass cat swings about with a rattle of tinkling as the shelves shake and a few vases begin to teeter dangerously off kilter. 

Felix throws down the bouquet with a loud curse as a giant slobbering mastiff the color of burnt coffee scrabbles into the shop. Slavering around a huge haunch of meat clamped between its jaws, it makes a beeline to hide under a shelf of potted succulents. 

“GET BACK HERE YOU DAMN MUTT!” A man in a white apron tears past the door, not even bothering to look at the swinging door of the flower shop as the dog (a beast really) plops its massive head onto its paws and begins gnawing on its prize cheerfully. 

Felix feels the impact of every thump of the dog’s tail resound through the shop, but it shakes him less than the sudden female and familiar voice, shrill with worry, that suddenly follows up right behind the angry man. 

“Crusher! Oh, no, Crusher sweetie, where are you? I think we’re in biiiig trouble and while I’m not saying it’s your fault, it’s kind of your fault! Crusher?! Here, boy! Oh, noooo…” Her voice trails off into a moan as a silhouette with a skirt, a dangling leash, and a familiar set of hair loopies sweeps past the shop. 

Felix stands frozen in shock. That did _not_ just happen. Life does _not_ get this ridiculous. 

He looks at the giant mastiff loudly eating under his succulent shelf. The big dog is watching him now, with liquid brown eyes of great wisdom and mischief as he lifts its jowls at Felix as if to say, “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

His old man was always more of the dog person (he preferred greyhounds), but Felix steps around the counter and bends down to look more closely at the dog anyway. He’s a massive mastiff, sleek with muscle, but his muzzle is beginning to grey just a little around the nose. He looks clean and well-groomed, but sports a fierce knot of scars around his shoulder. 

But he seems fairly well-behaved, amiable even, and just thumps his thick tail on the ground as Felix cranes his neck to see if he has a collar. 

A bright pink collar, thin and unobtrusive, is knotted loosely around the dog’s many folds of neck. A little silver charm dangles from it, and written in elegant and fancy cursive is the name _CRUSHER_. 

“You’re a menace,” Felix informs the dog. Crusher just cracks a bone and polishes off the last of the meat. 

“Will you stay here while I fetch your master?” Felix asks. Crusher simply looks up at him and happily pants. He doesn’t move, but in fact stretches himself out and makes himself luxuriously comfortable. 

“Freeloader,” Felix says under his breath, but he stands up. After a moment of thought, he bends down and unties the collar from around Crusher’s neck. Crusher gives him a curious look, but allows him to do so, putting his head back onto his paws and closing his eyes. 

And so Felix leaves the shop in the care of a happy hungry mastiff and sets off down the street, holding a lightly braided collar in his hands and looking for a red-haired girl carrying an empty, dangling leash. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the flowers that Felix was threatening Sylvain with are toxic, with varying degrees of deadliness. I'm pretty sure he keeps plenty of each, though out of beauty or practicality we don't know. :P 
> 
> Next chapter: Annette's POV!


	4. crusher and crushes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Annette discovers several things about Felix and about herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Animal Crossing: New Horizons seized my productivity and beat it to death in front of me with a shovel
> 
> So I apologize for the late update, but this chapter is almost twice the length of previous ones, so I hope that it makes up for that! Enjoy the fluff in the meantime and thank you for sticking with me <3

It’s a beautiful sunny morning on February 15, and Annette Fantine Dominic nearly dies. 

To be fair, it wasn’t the truck driver’s fault; she did just dash straight into the teeming intersection with not a care for the soundness of her limbs after all. But the pile of burlap sacks next to that vegan grocery store looked just like Crusher’s dear old ratty dun coat! Annette really needs to look before she leaps... 

This entire bullet train of thought shoots through her mind very swiftly and despairingly as she shoots across the rest of the intersection, barely making it across before the truck flies through the street. The driver shoots her a glance of horrified bafflement as he whizzes past in a screeching cacophony of tires and a very belated blare of horns. 

Annette skids to a stop on the sidewalk, gripping her knees as she bends over and wheezes, panting as she stares mournfully at the not-Crusher pile of bags that she literally risked her life for. 

“Where are you, boy?” She whispers to herself, gripping the loose leash in her hands and straightening to look anxiously around the street. The sun is just beginning to crest over the skyline of the city, and if she doesn’t hurry she’s not going to make it in time for Mercedes’ class…

“Excuse me.”

Annette shrieks and whirls around at the sudden dry voice that felt like it came right over her shoulder. She gets a second heart attack at the owner of said voice, standing and observing her in a way that a man who just saw a girl throw herself in front of a truck for seemingly no reason would _not_ be doing. “BAH!”

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Dark Tall and Cool as a Cucumber says, unruffled. He gives her a once-over, and Annette is suddenly very relieved that she had put on one of her nicer outfits (a white fluffy skirt that shows off her neat black boots and her super-cute blouse) today.

It pays off, because by the time Dark Tall and Handsome looks up, his cheeks are tinged with the faintest bit of rose. “Are you alright?”

“Just peachy!” Annette tries to smile as sunnily as possible, but it comes out as more of a grimace and she sort of gives up halfway through anyway. “I’m sorry, I’m just having the _worst_ morning.”

“You don’t look like you’re having a bad morning,” Dark Tall and Actually Kind of Sweet observes. 

“It’s all my fault, really,” Annette babbles on, wringing her hands as she stares despairingly down the street, as if Crusher would just burst out one of the storefronts with a wagging tail and a big doggy smile at any second.

“I was going to one of my friend’s daycare because she asked if I could bring Crusher because he’s so good with kids and these kids come from like really messed up places so they need a big smile-inducer and what’s a better smile-inducer than a BIG dog?” 

Dark Tall and Looking a bit Lost just nods, and she barrels on. “So I was planning on just dropping him off with her so I could go to my classes but I think I forgot to feed him this morning because once he took a big whiff of that butcher’s shop open window he just _took off_ and I lost him!”

“Actually about that.” Dark Tall and—oh, right, wasn’t his name Felix?—reaches into his pocket and withdraws a familiar braided pink collar.

The little name tag, sporting the name _CRUSHER_ in cursive, sparkles in the sun, and Annette lets out a very undignified squeal and seizes Felix’s hands to peer at the collar, her eyes welling up. “Oh my gosh this is it!” 

She looks up, gripping his hands urgently. “Where did you get this? Do you know where Crusher is?”

“He’s in my shop right now,” Felix replies in a bit of a strangled voice. Annette cocks her head at him, confused as to why he’s suddenly beet red, and then belatedly realizes their proximity. She flushes and pulls back, but he twists his hand in such a way that when she’s pulled her hand away, the collar is dangling from her fingers. 

_Stop it, heart!_ Annette thinks to herself fiercely, faintly. _He can probably hear your pounding at this rate!_

“I-is he okay?” She hastily pockets the collar and trots up to him, following Felix as he sets off down the street. “If he made a mess out of your shop I promise that I’ll clean it up and pay for any damages!”

Felix actually _chuckles_. It’s more like an affectionate snort, but the quiet laugh is enough to make fireworks go off in Annette’s head in colors of amber, cobalt, and softly colored red. 

“He’s fine,” Felix continues lightly, tucking his hands back into his pockets as they stroll down the street. She’s never realized how much taller he is than her until now. “He’s actually just under one of my shelves with a haunch that I think he took off with.”

“That’s good! Oh, I’m so glad!” Annette clutches her chest and breathes out a big _whuff_ of relief. Her heart has slowed down considerably, but it’s skipping along with her boots as she walks alongside Felix. It’s so strange to not have two feet of counter between the two of them, but it’s doubly strange to have this entire encounter feel so...natural. 

Oh, right. They haven’t even been introduced properly yet! Annette sticks out her hand to him as they walk and gives him a big smile—Annette style,not her customer-service one. “I’m Annette, by the way!”

“Felix,” Aha, she was right! Felix takes her hand and shakes it properly, giving her the smallest approximation of a nod. “I work just down the street, so it won’t take too long.”

“Oh, that’s good!” Annette hurries to keep pace with his longer legs, almost skipping along to match his long strides. “I don’t want to keep Crusher waiting.”

“Does he get impatient?” Felix asks with some amusement. 

“No, but he gets lonely.” Annette pulls her mouth down. “That’s why I want to hurry.”

“How long have you had him?” Felix asks, and Annette makes a helpless gesture with her hands.

“Oh, forever. Or as long as I could remember, actually. My dad got him as a itty puppy when I was little, and I just grew up with him.”

_He was with me when Dad wasn’t._

“He seems active for his age,” Felix comments.

“Oh yeah.” Annette grins widely, the shadows scattering from her head. “He’s such a friendly giant! He’s so old now, but he keeps frolicking like he’s a puppy again.

"I adore him,” she adds with a sigh. 

Felix gives her a look. It’s not a judgemental look, but Annette still feels like he’s assessing her and feels the tiniest tingle, warm and electric, go up her spine.

He seems to have found whatever he was looking for, because something softens on his face and Felix finally comes to a stop in front of a pair of glass doors.

“He’s just inside.” Felix unlocks the front door and opens it with a jingling of glass chimes.

“Aroof!”

“CRUSHER!” Annette lunges forward with her arms outstretched and is met with an enormous damp doggy kiss right on her face. She squeals and tumbles backwards, laughing as Crusher plants his huge paws on her stomach and lavishes her cheeks with loving attention. His many happy licks wipe off like all of her makeup, but Annette doesn’t care less as she throws her arms around his body and holds him tight. 

“Your breath smells horrible,” she tells him tearfully, wiping off her face. “What did you eat, you nasty stinky thief?”

Crusher gazes at her with large chocolate eyes full with innocence and he pants, his tail whacking the floor happily. Annette melts, hugging him again, burying her face in the folds of his neck. “You’re the worst!”

She glances up at Felix, wincing inwardly as she realizes that she must look like a mess. “Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome,” Felix bends down next to her, reaching out a hand to Crusher, who sniffs it curiously. “He hasn’t broken anything or caused any trouble. I’m just glad I was able to find you quickly enough.”

“Thanks again, I really appreciate it.” Annette smiles up at him, wide and genuine this time, and Felix coughs, covering his mouth with his hand and looking away. “I told you, it’s no problem.”

Annette cocks her head at him, and when Crusher imitates the motion, Felix just looks at them with the same expression he always wears whenever she makes a face at his boring old order of plain unsweetened oolong tea.

He manages to hold her gaze for a grand total of about three seconds before he just turns pink again and busies his hands with re-centering the flowers on display. 

Wait. Flowers on display?

For the first time since she’d entered the shop, Annette’s head whips back and forth as she takes in the entirety of the interior with an open mouth, her hand stilling over Crusher’s fur. When Felix had said that he ran a shop, she’d assumed that it was some edgy building selling something dark and uninteresting, like cutlery or tax preparation services. 

She did not expect the brooding, boring handsome man to be the type who would sell _bright pink_ flowers. 

“You’re a _florist_?” Annette exclaims, hurriedly getting to her feet. Felix grunts and she interprets that to be an affirmative noise, because he’s holding a bunch of pretty green stalks with big poofs of white on the top and straightening out their petals with such care that he couldn’t be anything _but_. 

Annette shakes her head in utter bafflement as she bounces from shelf to shelf, her astonishment growing with every beautifully assembled arrangement. The shelves look like cat towers, with every tier holding some new burst of colors and blooms. There are trails of ivy tumbling out of white ceramic dishes, huge clumps of peonies huddled in handmade wooden boxes, pastel tulips bobbing from their tall stained vase….

“Did you grow all of these yourself?” Annette asks in disbelief as she bends over to sniff a particularly magnificent ball of tiny star-shaped blue petals ( _hydrangea macrophylla_ , according to the thin, no-nonsense, handwritten label). 

“I grew them, yes. There’s a greenhouse in the back.” Felix is watching her with some mingled amusement and an ill-disguised attempt at aloofness. His hands are ever busy, swiftly pulling apart and rearranging flower stems with a grace and deftness that testifies to years of experience. “The arrangements vary depending on the seasons, but we offer bouquets all year round at the very least.”

“Wow….” Annette hops from shelf to shelf in awe, gasping at the sight of spidery irises, bell-shaped lilies, huge sunflower-like bursts of petals in every color imaginable… 

Even while being dazzled by the colors and the shapes and the smells, Annette notices the obvious level of care that’s put into every single arrangement on display. There are night-loving flowers pushed deep into the shadows of the shop, cheaper arrangements pushed to the forefront while the more expensive and elaborate bouquets are given their own space…

_How can someone so surly arrange such pretty flowers into even prettier combinations? This is crazy!_

Annette’s in the middle of oohing and ahhing over a pretty vase of tulips adorned with velvety red ribbon before she stops dead in her tracks.

There’s an iron-wrought shelf in the corner of the shop, quiet and unobtrusive compared to the other loud shelves proclaiming the anticipation of spring. Its arrangements are so delicate and sophisticated that Annette doesn’t realize that she’s staring open mouthed until Felix paces noiselessly over to her.

“My moribana shelf,” he explains. The blush is back, but it’s faint as he moves over to stand by her as she stares unabashedly at the drooping stalks, the cluster of soft tiny flowers, the subtle colors of their earthenware homes. “It’s a minimalist style of ikebana that focuses on space and balance.”

“It’s beautiful,” Annette whispers breathlessly. 

“It’s not much,” Feix replies, almost automatically, but the blush has intensified to a redder hue. 

“This is a lot!” She insists with more volume this time, and Crusher thumps his tail as if to add emphasis.

“What I’m confused about,” Annette turns to face him with a finger on her chin, “is how a man who orders his tea plain and unsweetened can make something like _this_.” She gestures expansively at the shelf and nearly knocks over a shallow bowl clutching a bloom of pale pink lilies. 

Felix’s arm shoots and steadies her hand before it can knock over the entire shelf. Annette is suddenly caught in his shadow, staring up at him with wide eyes as he looks down at her with something akin to actual _mischief_ in his sharp amber gaze. 

“I guess there are things that we just can’t explain,” he says in a voice that curls around her like a trailing arm of ivy. 

Annette tries to reply but all that comes up is a graceless squawk. 

Felix blinks, and his eyes go wide as he hastily lets go of her arm. They spring apart, stammering in unison:

“I’m sorry—”

“It’s okay, u-um—!”

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ Annette tells herself fiercely, her hands fluttering for purchase as she tries to make herself look very busy. Felix is pointedly looking away from her, bending over his moribana as his dark hair curtains his face and frames his jaw. 

However, even as she buries her hands in mortification, Annette peeks through her fingers to watch the line of his pale fingers working against the dark wood of the moribana shelf. In the midst of all these explosions and bursts of spring color, the black and white contrast soothes her.

 _There’s a word for that, isn’t there?_ Annette’s dizzied brain thinks helplessly, entranced by the movement of his hands among the flowers. _Chiaroscuro, or something? Dark and light?_

She’s learning so much about him today. And about herself, apparently. 

Crusher shoves his nose into her leg, abruptly derailing her train of thought. His insistent nudging suddenly sends reality crashing down around her as Annette jolts out of her reverie with a start.

“Agh! Mercedes’ class!”

“What?” Felix turns to stare, his hands frozen around a stem of actual bamboo. 

“I’m going to be late!” Annette hurriedly reties Crusher’s collar around his neck and snaps the leash around him in a frantic flurry of activity. “I totally lost track of the time, I gotta go!”

“Do you need a ride?” Felix asks her in concern as she makes a hurried beeline for the door, Crusher hot on her heels. 

“It’s just down the street, but thank you!” Annette throws a grateful smile to him as she flings open the door, the breeze catching her hair and tossing about her face.

“Thank you for everything—for taking care of Crusher and for finding me and for showing your shop to me and everything—I really appreciate it!”

Felix nods at her, lifting up a hand in farewell. “Take care.”

“Bye!”

The door swings shut before she could be sure, but Annette thinks that Felix smiles. 

She sprints all the way to Mercedes’ daycare, and when her gentle friend comments on her flushed cheeks with concern, Annette blames it on the run. 

_You’ve got it bad, Annie._ Her brain whispers to her in a very gleeful voice that sounds suspiciously like Sylvain’s. _Very, very bad._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> google moribana and you'll see why Annette reacted the way she did, those arrangements are GORGEOUS
> 
> Felix's POV and cat next chapter!


	5. felix.exe has stopped working

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri asks Felix a question. Sylvain makes a group chat. Felix is speechless twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who regrets signing up for a billion zines? *raises hand*
> 
> also remote learning is a PAIN
> 
> Okay but here is a longish chapter to tide you over until the next far off time I remember to update this fic. We have an actual chapter count now!! This won't be a longish fic after all, but I'm planning to make the chapters a wee bit longer to make up for the shorter chapter count. 
> 
> Also I'm upping the rating to a T for brief mentions of more intense subject matters like death, violence, trauma, and related subjects in upcoming chapter, and also because I can't keep my foul tongue from slipping every once in a while. But I don't think it'll get any more than this in the future!
> 
> So enjoy, stay inside, wash them hands, and stan felannie. 
> 
> Thank you all <3

It’s the late evening of February 15, and Felix thinks he has heart problems. 

Every time he even so much as catches sight of the damned moribana shelf out of the corner of his vision, the stubborn organ clenches like a fist and makes his entire body feel lighter than a dried peony petal. 

To cope with this unwelcome development, Felix throws himself into his work, trimming and arranging bouquets until his fingers are red, but even the dreamy scents of early spring flowers can’t distract him from the lingering freshness in the air brought on by Annette’s presence. 

Goddess, he’s turning into a sap, isn’t he? 

Felix doesn’t realize he’s stilled over a bunch of violets and primroses until a soft furry body twines itself around his wrist.

“How did you get out,” he asks without looking down, deadpan, as the sleekly silvery-black cat settles on his arm with nary a care in the world. “You know you’re not supposed to be in the shop.”

“Mrrrow.”

“The last time the boar came in here I thought he was going to asphyxiate.” Felix bites back a smile at the sight of her curious paws batting at the stems of the bouquet. “I don’t want to get sued by his associates.”

She rolls onto her back, her soft green eyes round and affectionate. “Rrrrrrrrrrr.”

Felix pokes at her nose, watching fondly as she tosses her head in protest at that. “You do realize that other customers can be allergic to you too? I have to be _professional_ about this. I expect more from you.”

“Mrrr,” Duchess says smugly.

“That’s it.” Felix scoops her up, wincing as her claws dig into his dress shirt. When her sharp paws actually scrape against his skin, he drops her. “You’re grounded.”

“FELIX!”

Both cat and human start in surprise as the door to the shop is flung wide open, the glass cat going absolutely batshit crazy as Dimitri clutches the doorframe, wide-eyed and disheveled. 

“What the hell?” Felix barks as Dimitri rushes up to him, swerving around the wide-eyed cat perched primly on the counter to tackle Felix in a lung-crushing bear hug. 

“SHE SAID YES, FELIX!” Dimitri lifts his instantly thrashing friend (that moniker is on _thin ice_ ) bodily into the air and swings him around in glee, dancing around the shop and nearly knocking aside more than a few tottering shelves. Even Crusher had been more reserved, for Seiros’ sake. 

“Put me down right now,” Felix grits out through clenched teeth as something pops in his spine. Dimitri gives him one last squeeze (Felix suddenly remembers that he needs to renew his medical insurance) and sets him down on the floor, grinning widely. 

“I had to tell you as soon as possible.” Dimitri sinks into the chair that Felix usually reserves for customer service complaints, and the great blonde-haired man gives Duchess a wide berth as he leans closer to Felix. “I cannot believe this is happening!”

“Me neither,” Felix replies with withering sarcasm. He leans back so Dimitri’s one glittering blue eye isn’t boring into his brain. “You have five minutes before your throat and my store closes up, so talk fast.”

Dimitri casts a look at Duchess, who has curled herself up into an inky ball on the counter. “Can’t you just move her...?”

Felix casts him a look. “She’s asleep. Five minutes.”

“Okay.” Dimitri takes a deep breath, already hoarse, and plunges into his tale. “So, you were aware of my state yesterday.”

“Painfully aware,” Felix affirms, deadpan. 

“When you dropped me off at my apartment last night, I was even worse,” Dimitri confesses solemnly. Felix groans inwardly at the inevitable soap opera spiel. 

“Dedue had to physically wrestle me into bed,” Dimitri admits. “He confiscated my phone, wallet, and keys, so that I wouldn’t make any rash decisions. He even shut down the Wi-Fi network.”

“Considering that the last time you were drunk and you ordered five hundred pounds of artisanal cheese from overseas, that was wise,” Felix comments wryly. 

“Actually,” Dimitri brightens up, “this was a little like that, but better! When Dedue left to go find my car, I called Byleth over Dedue’s landline in his room in a fit of alcoholic confidence and confessed _everything_.”

Felix counts in his head and looks up in shock. “At 2 in the morning?”

“She was on her night shift!” Dimitri grins widely, all but vibrating in his chair from joy. “And she picked up on the second ring…”

“A sign of true love.” Felix crosses his arms, resisting the urge to check the outside windows for a glimpse of hair loopies and a pleated skirt. “Go on. I’m _riveted_.”

“Thank you, Felix,” Dimitri says earnestly, before sneezing suddenly. “Excuse me!”

“Three minutes.” Felix taps his watch and glances affectionately at Duchess, who is unmoving but for a twitch of her velvety soft ebony ears. 

“Long story short,” Dimitri recounts dreamily, “She came to the apartment to check on me and I still had the ring in my pocket so I knelt before her—” 

At this point he begins to choke up with tears, pausing to cover his eye with his hand, “—and I asked if she could be my wife, and despite all of my faults, all of shortcomings, she said YES.”

Felix sighs and uncrosses his arms. Despite all his bluster, it’s hard to be reticent in a situation like this. The two have been dating for AGES ( _Aegis,_ Glenn would’ve snorted) and Felix had been there when Dimitri had first met the blank-faced woman charged with leading his security detail. Byleth had been so cold, so inexpressive, that when she smiled for the first time, it had been no surprise when touch-craved Dimitri fell for her like a heavy rock in water. 

She had always stuck stubbornly and patiently with him, even through the ugly moods and the one-way mirrors. Byleth had a deadpan humor, a deeply kind heart, and a loving fondness for boarish, brooding men. She was good for Dimitri. 

“I’m happy for you,” Felix says, with genuine honesty. “Congratulations, Dimitri.”

“Thank you, Felix.” Dimitri heaves in a deep breath that rattles in his throat and Felix winces, casting another glance at Duchess, who has reached the stage of sleep where she smooshes her face into her paws; a habit, according to Rodrigue, that she had developed ever since she was a kitten. 

“Alright, you have to step outside.” Felix stands up and makes a shooing motion towards the door. “I don’t want to explain to your devastated business partners that the Blaiddyd CEO survived two assasination attempts only to die of _anaphylaxis_.” 

“You’re right.” Dimitri coughs and hastily stands, his eyes watering from both tears and cat hair. “I’m going to find Ingrid next, but I just wanted to ask you’d--”

“Yes, I’ll arrange the flowers for your inevitably sappy postcard wedding, you boar,” Felix snaps, shoving him bodily out the door. “Now get out.” 

“No, Felix—” Dimitri pauses in the doorway as the cool evening air snatches his hair and spins it golden, the taller man looking at him so seriously, “Will you be my groomsman?”

Felix freezes. 

_Will you be my groomsman—_

_Glenn grinning down at him as he fiddles with his suit, laughing as a tiny Duchess plays at their feet, “You can be my groomsman, Fe—”_

Felix jerks back to the present as a sudden rush of traffic and horns blare past them, and he comes back to himself just in time to see the concern growing on Dimitri’s face.

“I mean," The blonde man says hastily "only if you are comfortable with this, Felix—”

“Of course,” Felix says hoarsely. “Of course I’ll be your groomsman, you absolute sap.” 

“But—” he raises a finger before Dimitri could burst into delighted tears and overstep his physical boundaries for the second time that day, “—I will also do your flowers because I don’t want to show up and see an idiot decorating Garreg Mach cathedral with fucking chrysanthemums. Deal?”

Dimitri nods, red-eyed and, again, grinning wide enough to match the crescent moon hanging in the sky. 

Felix slaps him on the shoulder and turns his shoulders to face back outside. “Glad that’s settled. Now take your anti-histamines and go tell the world you’re engaged.”

Dimitri chokes out a short bark of laughter, abrupt, bewildered and disbelievingly joyful, and runs a shaking hand through his hair. “Serios, I’m _engaged_. I have a _fiancee_.”

“That’s what it’s called, yes.” Felix rolls his eyes, but fondly. “Goodnight, Dimitri.”

“I need to contact Sylvain and Ingrid...oh, and Dedue!” Dimitri is fumbling with his phone as he walks slowly down the street, the rush of giddiness visible even in the lines of his shoulders. “Ashe doesn’t get off work until ten, so I have to call him then…”

He looks back at Felix over his shoulder and waves. “I’ll send you details tonight,” Dimitri calls, “because I don’t think I can focus on anything else right now!”

“You’re going to walk straight into traffic if you don’t pay attention,” Felix barks at him as he begins to retreat back into the shop. “And don’t message me when I’m asleep or I _will_ feature chrysanthemums in your wedding.”

Dimitri gives him a thumbs up as he disappears into the throng of pedestrians. 

Felix closes the door and leans heavily against the doorway with a loud sigh, feeling as if a lumbering blonde bull had burst into his china shop and broke every piece of dishware he had on display. Duchess makes an annoyed sound in her sleep, her outstretched leg twitching as she dreams fitfully. 

Felix casts her a weary look as he runs his hand over his face. 

“You and me both, girl.”

O.O

[ **Sylvain Jose Gautier** ] created [ **DIMA’S HOT ASS GROOMSMEN** ] 

[ **Sylvain Jose Gautier** ] set their nickname to [( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)]

[ **( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)** ] added [ **Felix Hugo Fraldarius** ]

[ **( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)** ] set [ **Felix Hugo Fraldarius** ]’s nickname to [ **Flower Man (™)** ]

[ **( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)** ] added [ **Ingrid Brandl Galatea** ]

[ **( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)** ] set [ **Ingrid Brandl Galatea** ]’s nickname to [ **ingr-edible** ]

[ **( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)** ] added [ **Dedue Molinaro** ]

[ **( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)** ] set [ **Dedue Molinaro** ]’s nickname to [ **boba guard** ]

[ **( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)** ] added [ **Ashe Ubert** ]

[ **( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)** ] set [ **Ashe Ubert** ]’s nickname to [ **WHOLESOME** ]

**12:01** ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°): ayyyyyyy my brethren

**Flower Man (™)** has left the chat. 

**12:02** WHOLESOME: noooo Felix!!! :((((

 **12:02** ingr-edible: hey you got one message through this time 

**12:02** ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°): no worries i got this

[ **( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)** ] added [ **Felix Hugo Fraldarius** ]

[ **( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)** ] set [ **Felix Hugo Fraldarius** ]’s nickname to [ **Flower Man (™)** ]  
  


 **12:03** Flower Man (™): why am i even here

 **12:03** ingr-edible: because dima wrote an entire essay for his wedding and we love him enough to read the whole thing

 **12:04** ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°): he had 4 pages on honeymoon venues alone ing, you could’ve skimmed

 **12:04** ingr-edible: but i DIDNT

 **12:04** WHOLESOME: it was a little long, but you gotta admire his enthusiasm!! He seems so smitten <3 <3 <3

 **12:04** Flower Man (™): the entire section on vows is ridiculous, he’s just going to blubber through it anyway

 **12:05** boba guard: It’s the thought that counts. 

**12:05** WHOLESOME: ^^

 **12:05** ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°): hey did anyone else get Byleth’s email

 **12:06** Flower Man (™): wait byleth wrote something

 **12:07** WHOLESOME: She just sent it so don’t worry Felix! She just listed her the name of her bridesmaids and some extra notes on the catering 

**12:07** ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°): WHAT THE FUCK OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

 **12:07** ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°): ADJFSKLJFAAO[QPEIOKLEF

 **12:08** ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°): GUYS

 **12:08** ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°): GUYS YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE THIS

 **12:08** ingr-edible: sylvain what have i told you about spamming capslock

 **12:08** ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°): LOOK AT THE EFFING BRIDESMAID LIST??????

 **12:08** Flower Man (™): sylvain every time my phone vibrates I’m dreaming of a new way to poison you

 **12:09** ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°): wait hold on felix you want to take a better look at this trust me

 **12:10** ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°): _felixlookatthis.jpeg_

 **12:15** Flower Man (™): the last time i opened one of your attachments i was scarred for life

 **12:15** ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°): no seriously there’s a name

 **12:15** ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°): that i think you might recognize

 **12:25** ingr-edible: Felix???

 **12:30** ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°): we broke him

 **12:34** WHOLESOME: wait I fell asleep, what’s happening

 **12:35** ingr-edible: Ashe honey go to sleep

 **12:35** WHOLESOME: I will soon!!! But is Felix okay tho??

 **12:35** ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°): this is the greatest day of my entire life 

**12:36** boba guard: In response to your query Ashe, I believe Felix just discovered that my friend and coworker Annette Fantine Dominc, who also happens to be the woman of his affection, is going to be walking down the aisle with him

 **12:37** WHOLESOME: WHAT

 **12:37** ingr-edible: WHAT

**Flower Man (™)** has left the chat. 

**12:37** ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°): like i said 

**12:37** ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°): greatest day of my entire life 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey quick note dont treat allergies lightly, be the opposite of Felix and don't kill your allergic friends 
> 
> also i copied and pasted so many lenny faces oh my god
> 
> Shout out to trixstar for their amazing BL texting fic "sent and received" that inspired this chapter's entire last section. How do you DO IT
> 
> Annette's POV next! Thank you guys <3


	6. definitions, almonds, and a moribana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annette tries to define a relationship, an unexpected customer makes an order, and Felix does something stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *drops this at your feet like a cat offering you a dead mouse*
> 
> *scurries away*
> 
> I'M SO SORRY FOR THE MONTH-LONG WAIT, IT'S BEEN A WEIRD MONTH FOR ME, BUT HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY ANNETTE, YOU'RE MY ONLY MUSE NOW
> 
> Hopefully the wait won't be as long next time, but I make no promises! Until then, have this longer update as recompense! I've added some angst now for seasoning but I won't go too far into it. Consider it the salt to the caramel of this fic~ 
> 
> Until the next time! Please enjoy!

It’s the late afternoon of February 16, and Annette has gotten so jumpy that she’s dropped two orders and spilled four drinks over the course of two hours. 

“We all have our off days,” Dedue says affably in return to her panicked apologizing, bending down to offer her a towel to mop up the latest mess (an iced green tea with passion fruit bits) with unerring patience. Goddess, the man is a saint and that just makes Annette feel guiltier. 

“I’m sorry.” She sweeps the mess into the sink and bids it a mournful farewell, “I know I’m usually Miss Butterfingers but today I’m Miss Butterhands…legs and feet too.”

Dedue gives her a critical eye as he wipes down the counter with effortless efficiency. “Does this have anything with the email that Byleth sent out last night?”

As Annette turns an indescribable shade of cherry red, he actually _smiles_ and tucks the rag into his apron. “That’s what I gathered.”

“Don’t say it like that!” Annette whines, burying her face into her grimy tea-smelling hands. “It’s too embarrassing and this is going to make tonight so much more awkward!”

“What’s ‘tonight’?” Dedue asks, and then his eyes brighten. “Ah yes. The dashing customer with a penchant for large cups of unsweetened oolong tea.”

Annette groans and while Dedue doesn’t chuckle, he makes this sort of huffing noise with his nose that sounds like actual amusement. She can’t fault him for something that manifests so rarely now, can she?

“Just don’t make it awkward when he comes in,” Annette mumbles as she peeks through her fingers pleadingly up at him. “Okay?”

“Why will it be awkward?” Dedue says deadpan with a quizzical brow. “You are just walking down the aisle arm in arm with a man who you’ve described as Tall Dark and Handsome. It’ll be the opposite of awkward.”

Annette moans a string of gibberish that dissolves into a high whine as Dedue gently steers her in the direction of the register, where a customer is hovering in slight confusion. 

“I’m very sorry, but we’ll have your drink ready in a few minutes,” Annette says faintly. “That’ll be 5.25 please.”

“You look faint.” Byleth Eisner remarks calmly as she takes a few pressed bills out of her uniform pocket and lays it on the counter. “Did you sleep alright last night?”

Annette reels back in shock. “BAH!”

“Hello Byleth.” Dedue says from over Annette’s head. “Why don’t you take a seat, my coworker is a little indisposed at the moment.”

“I’m not indisposed, I’m just—” Annette grips the counter and takes a steadying breath, taking a big lungful of milk tea-scented air to rally her scattered wits. Byleth patiently waits as Annette exhales and shakes out her arms. “I’ll get you a new cup of green tea, By, sorry.”

“It’s alright.” The captain of Seiros Security has the same emotional exuberance as Dedue and so quietly takes a seat by the counter, folding her hands neatly in her lap. Her face doesn’t relax and her spine is ramrod straight, but there’s a fondness in the way that she caresses the very new glimmering ring sitting atop her left hand that wasn’t there before. 

“We received your email last night,” Dedue says conversationally as Annette kicks the sputtering green tea machine to life. “It seems that preparations are underway then.”

“Yes,” Byleth says softly, and while her face has the physiological abilities of a marble statue, her voice rings with the subtle but unmistakable dreaminess of a woman who knows that she loves and is loved in return. 

_Being in love makes everyone sound so pretty_ , Annette muses to herself as she scoops bits of passion fruit into By’s cup of green tea.

“I noticed several familiar faces from the groom’s party,” Dedue continues calmly, and a few pieces of passion fruit tumble from the cup to the counter. “We’re to have quite the retinue.”

“That’s right.” Byleth leans forward to rest her chin in her hands, her muscle-bound shoulders bunching under her shirt collar as she stares thoughtfully at the wall. “I would like for it to be a smaller affair, but Seteth will be officiating and you know his thoughts on ceremonial business.”

“Of course,” Dedue says amiably. “But I’m glad that Dimitri has convinced his close friends to join him on a very special occasion. I was especially surprised that Felix agreed to be on the groom’s party.”

There’s a clatter of container lids and a banging of utensils, and Byleth leans over further to catch a sight of a bright red Annette scooping an unholy amount of fruit into a brimming cup of green tea. “You doing all right there, Annette?”

“I’m fine!” Annette squeaks. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

She all but shoves the cup into the capping machine and flees to the back room. “I’m taking my break!”

The swinging doors flap shut, and Byleth looks back up at Dedue. There’s a glint of something puckish in her eyes as she steeples her fingers. “She’s taking the news marvelously, I see.”

Dedue doesn’t say anything, but there’s a faint upturn to his lips as he takes the now-capped cup of green tea from the machine and slides it bar-style down the counter. 

Byleth catches the cup and her fingers wrap thoughtfully around the beading surface as a grin crosses her normally stoic features. “I can’t _wait_ for rehearsals.”

O.O

As the sun sinks slowly into the windowsill of the shop and the shadows grow over the many bins of toppings, Annette’s nervousness mellows. Surely this new...arrangement doesn’t change anything in this...relationship now, doesn’t it?

As the short hand on the pastel wall clock begins to creep towards 8, Annette’s body language gets more animated. 

“And this isn’t even a ‘relationship’,” she says emphatically, using her fingers to make quotation marks around the word ‘relationship’ as she emphasizes every individual syllable. “He’s just a regular customer who I happened to meet outside of work _once._ This isn’t even a relationship; this is an _acquaintance_.”

Dedue makes a noncommittal hum under his throat as he swipes down the counter, and Annette feels her ears burn. 

“It’s true!” she insists. 

Dedue opens his mouth to speak, but then his eyes narrow slightly as the bell above the entrance finally jingles open. 

Annette whirls around, frantically drying her hands on her apron as she breaks into an automatic smile, but then the smile drops off her face as Gilbert Pronislav walks slowly into the store. 

When Byleth walked in earlier with her uniform of dark blue and gold, she had done so with an air of steely confidence. Every step was decisive, like she knew exactly where to put her feet and how far it would carry her. 

Gilbert walks in tentatively, uncertainly. There’s something about the way that he looks at everything but her that makes Annette feel like she’d just tasted some mushy week-old boba. His standard-issue cap is worried between his large hands, and he walks up to the counter like it pains him to do so. 

Annette doesn’t realize that her shoulders have tightened until Dedue lays a gentle hand on them, steering her to the side as he steps up to the register. 

“What can I get for you?” His voice isn’t flat, but it isn’t friendly either. 

“Can I…” Gilbert pauses, and Annette shudders as his gaze slides past the menu hanging above the counter to where she stands, fists clenched and shoulders stiff, by the oolong tea machine. 

He clears his throat and returns his gaze to where Dedue is looming. “An almond milk tea for Gilbert Pronislav. Please.”

“That’ll be 4.50,” Dedue says almost too shortly for professionalism.

Gilbert reaches into his pocket and takes out crisply folded bills. Even though her heart is thumping painfully in her chest, Annette almost wants to laugh as her father smooths out the creases and places the money on the counter. Even after all these years, he still likes to press his paper money until they’re neat and orderly. 

_The opposite of you_ , some shadowed part of her brain whispers, and Annette has to physically and angrily shoo the thought away. 

Dedue turns to her, and there’s soft steel in his eyes as he hands her a large plastic cup marked AT. “A large almond milk tea, Annette.”

“Co-” Annette clears her throat and smiles. “Coming right up!”

The next few minutes are agonizing. There’s nothing but the sound of the tea machine gurgling and sputtering as Annette half-heartedly kicks at it, and once or twice Gilbert sounds like he’s about to say something before passing off the beginning of the word as a cough. Dedue looms quietly all the while. 

Finally, after an eternity of bubbling and fake-coughing, Annette extricates the capped drink out of the machine and slowly slides it across the counter. 

“A large almond milk tea,” she says quietly, raising her gaze to glare directly into her father’s sad eyes, “for Gustave Dominic.” 

Gilbert’s hand stills as he reaches across the counter, and a heartbeat passes when Annette fears that he’s not going to take the cup. But eventually, his fingers close around the beading surface, and without another word Gilbert places his cap back onto his head and walks slowly out of the store. 

The moment that the door closes with a merry jingle, Annette whirls around and _punches_ the oolong tea machine so hard it dents. A little dribble of dark green tea drips onto the floor as she pulls back her fist. It’s shaking, so she grabs it and holds it to her chest. 

Behind her, Dedue’s voice is a low and steadying rumble. “Take the rest of the night off, Annette. I can lock up tonight.”

“Thanks, Dedue.” Annette’s voice feels very small, like a piece of candy drowning in the depths of ink-black tea until it disappears. “I’ll...I’ll do it next time, I promise.”

She grabs her jacket and tears out of the store before the sickly-sweet scent of almonds threatens to overwhelm her and she does something stupid like cry.

O.O

Outside, the air is crisp like a fresh wafer. It helps soothe the rattled gooseflesh on her skin, and Annette rubs her arms as she paces agitatedly up and down the sidewalk. 

Outside, it doesn’t smell like almonds, just exhaust fumes and damp earth, and so Annette’s emotions cool from runny lava to rock-hard obsidian.

“It’s so stupid,” she mutters furiously to herself, dashing tears out of her eyes and flinging them on the ground. “He’s stupid. He’s an absolute stupid person.” 

With every ‘stupid’, Annette kicks the sidewalk with heightened vigor and her voice sharpens to a shout. “He’s an absolute stupid person who shouldn’t be drinking stupid almond tea this _late_!”

“Who’s stupid?”

“My dad,” Annette spits automatically, and then gasps at the horrifyingly familiar voice and spins around in a blind panic. _Please don’t be him please don’t be him please don’t be him—_

And despite her pleas to an apparently heartless goddess, who else could be standing under the light of a lamppost looking upsettingly handsome and bewildered but Felix? 

Annette opens her mouth to speak, suddenly remembers Byleth’s definitive midnight email and the obvious trails of tears on her cheeks, and has a mental meltdown for all of five seconds before Felix awkwardly approaches her. 

“Here.” He digs around his pockets, something that he somehow manages to do even with a moderately large box under one arm (Annette feels a twinge of something that feels either like jealousy or hot-blooded attraction), and it only takes a moment before he pulls out a pack of tissues and hands it to her. 

It’s not soft face tissues, but packing tissues cut to size. Annette seizes it anyway and blows her nose loudly into the lavender colored paper and relishes the chafe. 

“Thanks,” she sniffles gracelessly and tries to smile at him, but it must come off as watery because Felix’s face goes kind of dark and he just nods. 

“Shitty dads suck,” he says lowly, and the shards of every word sting with familiar sympathy. Now she understands the lack of empty apologies, or half-hearted reassurances that anyone else would’ve tried to give her.

She appreciates his curtness more than a thousand flowery words. 

“There’s a bench there.” Felix points over at a park bench underneath a grove of just-budding trees across the street. “You want to sit?”

Annette nods, the tissue paper crinkling under her hand, and they cross the street in silence. Felix shifts the box to his right arm, away from her side so they could walk closer together, and Annette wants to cry again but for a totally different reason. 

They make it to the bench without being run over, thankfully, so they sit down. Felix doesn’t lounge, per say, but the way that he arranges his body on the bench makes him look so restfully graceful while Annette feels as bunchy as the gross wad of tissues that she’s stuffed into her pocket. 

It’s quiet again, awkwardly so, and it doesn’t take long before the silence creeps up on Annette and she blurts out at the exact same time that Felix speaks up:

“It’s really no big deal—”

“I brought you something—”

Both of them flush and their words peter away into embarrassed silence. Annette fidgets with the zipper on her coat before his words click in her brain and she glances up at him. “You brought me something?”

“It’s nothing,” Felix says quickly. His hand is already creeping over the box like he’s thinking of squirreling it away, but the part of Annette’s brain that loves presents is quickly beating the mist out of her eyes. 

“Well, let’s see it.” Her smile comes off stronger this time, and Felix immediately relents. His hands work at untying the box and Annette wipes her eyes a couple more times because his hands seem almost to shake when doing so. 

Finally, Felix gets the box open and unveils to Annette’s wondering eyes a beautiful, carefully made moribana arrangement. 

It’s small, the tips of the tallest branches of the arrangement just barely touching the top of the box’s lid, but every detail is made with such obvious care and thought that Annette doesn’t care even if it were the size of the bench they’re sitting on. 

“Wow, this is…” Annette reaches to reverently touch the tiny pink blossoms, then quickly draws her hands back as she looks up at him in awe. “Can I touch it?”

“Of course,” Felix says. There’s something funny happening to his voice, like it’s being squeezed out of a tunnel that’s too small, but it’s nothing compared to the absolute ruby hue of his face. “I made it for you.”

Annette turns bright pink, but the warm-honey glow of affection that’s blooming in her chest is tempered by her fascination with the tiny arrangement before her. 

“This is so cute,” she whispers, drawing the moribana into her lap, “what does all of this...what are these?”

Felix inhales softly, and bends over to point out features of the arrangement. “These,” he runs his fingers over the tiny clumps of miniature purple flowers gathered at the base, “are lilacs.”

“These are scarlet lychnis.” He twitches a small poof of red flowers back into place, where it lays gently against smooth, brown-green branches, before he runs his fingers up the side of the branches where tiny blossoms of pink bloom at the tips. 

Felix pauses. “And these,” he says in a slow, deliberate way, “are peach branches.”

Annette marvels at the flowers for a little while. They’re all assembled in an earthenware pot of dark soil that’s patted firmly into place. There’s a tiny ribbon of light orange tied around the pot, and Annette wonders faintly if it resembles her hair. 

“This looks like it costs a fortune,” is what she finally manages to say after a few minutes. 

Felix just shrugs, tugging at the back of his hair. “Not if you make it yourself.”

Annette laughs a little bit and holds it tightly. “Thanks so much, Felix.”

He squirms a bit. “It’s no big deal.”

“It _is_ a big deal!” Annette insists, and something in her jumps with glee at the way Felix attempts to hide his face in his hand again. 

“If you say so.” His voice comes out muffled, and Annette beams and cradles the arrangement in her lap like it’s made of glass. 

“What brought this on?” she asks curiously, peering at his face. “I mean, I haven’t even made that oolong tea order with boba for you yet. This probably exceeds the budget limit.”

“Who says we’re in that kind of an arrangement?” Felix says with exasperation, finally coming out of hiding to give her a look à la Dedue. “Is this about Byleth’s email?”

“ _Is_ this about Byleth’s email?” Annette shoots back at him incredulously. 

“No!” Felix sputters. “Well—” He reaches up to tug at his hair again, and Annette follows the motion like a distracted puppy. It must be a nervous habit for him. 

He finally lets his hand drop back into his lap. “Kind of. Sort of. I don’t know.”

“Well, let’s not make a big deal out of it!” Annette says cheerfully. “It’s just walking down the aisle together right? Not a big deal, noooo, not at all.”

Felix actually snorts at that. “Right. Of course, how could I have thought otherwise.”

“It’s not! Really!” Annette says shrilly, and when his eyebrow creeps up into his hairline she’s had enough. 

“If it’s such a big deal then,” she says determinedly, setting aside the moribana with infinite care and scrambling to her feet, “then let’s practice.”

Felix stares at her like she’s got three heads. “What?”

“We can practice!” Annette says impatiently, sticking out her hand. “It’s just walking, not dancing or anything like that. Just walking. How hard could it be?”

Felix scoffs. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re extra,” Annette fires back. 

Felix looks vaguely offended at that, but he finally lets out a long-suffering sigh and heaves himself to his feet like it takes a mountainous effort to do so. “Fine.”

“Just stand over there, and I’ll be right here.” Annette points, and Felix wanders over to his assigned position like a martyr. 

“This is what the three separate rehearsals are for,” he calls from where he’s standing, and Annette rolls her eyes. “Just shut up and walk.”

Felix obeys with a fair bit more grumbling, but straightens his shoulders and arranges his feet as if he’s really about to walk down with her, and so Annette self-consciously tucks her hair back and lifts her chin as well. 

“This is awkward with no music,” Felix warns as they creep towards each other, and Annette glares. “I’ll hum Cethleanne’s Canon in D, so hush.” 

She begins to hum, and the amusement drops off his face. He hovers as she blithely approaches him, still humming, and with a look of open vulnerability Felix proffers his arm. 

Annette’s humming falters a little as her fingers curl into the crook of his elbow, and she has to valiantly rally herself even as Felix’s arm tightens around her. 

“Now we walk,” she says unsteadily, and Felix casts her a look. “Keep singing then,” he says curtly.

“Not with that tone,” Annette scolds, and she expects him to laugh.

But he doesn’t. 

Instead Felix looks at her with great seriousness, the kind that overwhelms you, the kind that deadens the bluster of the outside world until it’s just the two of you standing in a warmly lit park on a crisp February evening.

“Sing for me,” he asks softly, “please, Annette?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brain: We can't come up with a good ending! What should we do?!
> 
> Me, steepling my fingers: Use...THAT line.
> 
> Brain: NANI!
> 
> Gilbert apparently likes almond tea! Look Mom, some canon lore!
> 
> The flower language behind Felix's extra moribana:
> 
> purple lilacs: first emotions of love  
> scarlet lychis: sunbeaming eyes  
> peach blossoms: i am your captive (THE TITULAR BLOSSOM, DOOT DOOT DOOT)
> 
> Next up: Felix's POV!
> 
> We're approaching the end, folks! Thank you for your support as always!!

**Author's Note:**

> In the meantime feast your eyes on Luna's gorgeous artwork: https://twitter.com/lunachaili/status/1234157993890963456?s=19


End file.
